


Fucksville, USA

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Other, everyone is sorta mentioned but i don't wanna tag them, mentions of bipolar disorder, mickey's relationship with the gallaghers still confuses me a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey looks to Mandy for comfort when Ian goes missing.</p><p>set during 5x06</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucksville, USA

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be something to go along with 5x06 bc apparently everyone seems to have forgotten mandy exists (like how hard is it to send a text man or even just mention her) but then it got out of hand and i think i gave mickey too many feelings for this tbh whoops
> 
> mandy's texts are in **bold**  
>  mickey's texts are underlined

He called the Gallaghers first. Of course he called the Gallaghers first. Mickey may not have been sure what to make of them still, but they were Ian’s family, and if anyone needed to know about this it was them.

For once in his life he really appreciated Carl’s presence as he punched in the numbers with shaking hands. The younger Gallaghers he could deal with; it was the elder two he sometimes had difficulty trusting. Lip’s phone rang out to the dial tone twice and as he dialled the number a third time half of him hoped to God he would answer but the other half prayed to God he wouldn’t. Voicing it properly, not just the clipped answer he’d given Carl, would confirm the dread that this was all real and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

They picked up eventually, shocked but not really surprised. Mickey didn’t even know there was a difference between the two until now. He rang his wife too; Svetlana was still inconsolable but no tears escaped her eyes. The woman was made of iron and she could not allow grief to let her rust.

He stayed up until dawn the first night, until his already heavy eyelids turned to lead and finally pulled him under. He’d sent Mandy a text then, at 2am, when the usually hectic Milkovich house was silent. He didn’t even know if she’d reply to him. Mandy was ever the night owl, but lately things had been strained. They’d kept in contact since she’d left but every message felt too brusque or too tense. After a few weeks of her being gone it had almost died down entirely.

He couldn’t formulate the words to tell her what was going on, how everything had gone to shit in the few weeks she’d been gone, how he needed his little sister back because at that moment it felt like everything in his life was coming crashing down around him, so the text itself was short and to the point.

It read simply: _ian’s gone._

He kept the phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline all night, waiting on a response from Mandy, a call from Ian, _anything_.

Instead what he got was radio silence – not a call, not a text, nothing.

He jolted awake to the sound of a baby’s wail, but when his eyes darted around the room for the source of the noise there was nothing. Of course there was nothing. Because Yevgeny wasn’t there and Mickey’s stupid fucking mind was playing tricks on him.

Maybe Ian wasn’t the only crazy one.

He dragged his hand over his face and frowned as he surveyed the living room, giving his mind a chance to catch up to the newfound sensation of being awake again. Everything was still; too still. Like there should have been a pair of quarrelling Russian women and the screaming of a child, or even the incessant chatter of his boyfriend or the constant bitching of his sister. Anything to pierce the quiet that had settled over the house.

The morning light filtered through the blinds and caught his eye as it reflected off something on the couch. Recognising it as the phone he’d left clutched to his chest as he’d fallen asleep, he picked it up and waited for it to flicker to life when he pressed the button.

To his surprise and fucking exaltation he had three messages, but his relief dissipated within seconds when he realised it was just Mandy.

Still, one reply was better than the silence he’d been receiving from everyone else.

 ** _7:28:_** _shit_  
_**7:28:** fuck sorry i was working_  
_**7:30:**_ _what do you mean gone???_

Mickey stared at the phone in his hand for a few moments, trying to decipher the words in front of him. He understood them fine, but somehow his sleep addled mind refused to let him form a coherent response. He wanted to just text his sister back and tell her it was all okay, that he could handle it, but Mandy had been dealing with him for long enough, she knew when to call bullshit on his lies. Besides, Mandy deserved to know how Ian was, even if Mickey didn’t know what to tell her.

It had been hours since Mandy had texted him, but he still felt pressured to respond.

_9:12: i dont even know hes just gone  
9:13: he took the fucking kid too_

This time it took just minutes for his sister to reply, for which he was grateful. Having someone to talk to calmed his nerves a little, even if it was just back and forth through text messages.

 **_9:15:_ ** _shit mickey  
**9:15:** have you tried calling him??_

He read the message twice, hoping she was joking. He let irritation get the better of him as he texted back.

_9:16: what do you think shithead? of course i tried fucking calling him_

His nerves were just frayed ends now, torn further by every second Ian was gone and shredded by every phone call he didn’t return. The ashtray on the kitchen table was visual representation of his own anxiety, filled to overflowing with dozens of cigarettes: lit but barely touched and soon stubbed out. His fingers itched for a cigarette now, just something to do, but he urged himself to focus on Mandy’s texts in lieu of opening another pack.

 **_9:20:_ ** _ah fuck. what happened with him anyway??_

_9:22: had a bit of an argument. told him i was taking him to the hospital. he didnt take it too well_

It took her another ten minutes to reply and Mickey had to remind himself that Mandy still had other things to do too. Just because he’d put everything on standstill for Ian didn’t mean everyone else could too.

 **_9:33:_ ** _you did good tho mick. is there anything i can do??_

A million and one things ran through Mickey’s mind, but none would really be of any help to the situation. All he wanted was Ian back home, safe and unscathed, and Yevgeny too. Though he never would have expected it he’d grown to care for the kid because, as fucked up as their family dynamic was, the child was his and he deserved a better life than the shit its parents had put up with. The Milkovich home was where family ideals came to wither up and die, but he wouldn’t let the same be true for his kid.

He looked back at the screen and typed back a short reply.

_9:36: dont think so_

And just like that there was nothing. Mickey figured Mandy was probably busy, maybe she’d had to deal with her fuckhead of a boyfriend asking who she was texting yet again. Normally the thought of anyone trying to control his little sister would make his blood boil but his feelings were so smashed to pieces that he couldn’t even bring himself to text Mandy a vexed message about teaching Kenyatta some fucking manners. It was another Mickey who did that. Not this Mickey.

As much as he tried to stop his mind from straying back to Ian it always did. Even years ago when they just hung out, sharing beers and kicking each other’s asses at Mario Kart he couldn’t stop it, now it was a foregone conclusion. He wondered how far Ian could drive in 24 hours. An hour would take him out of state; twenty four was more than Mickey wanted to think about.

He’d blame those thoughts for not being able to stop his hands from twitching and typing out another message to Mandy, one that he’d kick himself for writing any other time but now he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

_10:02: fuck  
10:02: im worried mandy_

This time he got his reply instantly.

 **_10:03:_ ** _i know mick. me too._

**

He woke again around three o’clock to a pounding on the door and the heavy fog of confusion clouding his mind. He didn't remember falling asleep. He set down the phone that still lay cradled in his hand and replaced it with the gun that rested on the coffee table. He approached the door with less haste and more caution than usual. He was warier now that the house was empty.

Though he acted irked, Mickey wasn’t sure if he was actually relieved or disappointed when he found only Ian’s brother at the door. He’d never been close to any of Ian’s siblings, but he’d gotten used to them coming and going to and from the house that he’d learned their names and given in on trying to send them away. For once he might have even appreciated the company.

The younger Gallagher boy – Carl – tossed a few comments his way and Mickey tried his best to respond. Exhausted as he was, the kid didn't deserve the sharp remarks that danced on the tip of his tongue.

He couldn't stop himself from snapping at Carl when he asked about Ian, but he wasn't really mad at the boy. He was mad at himself, he was mad at the stupid fucking disorder, he was mad at everyone and yet no one at all. In some way it was a slight relief that Carl hadn't heard from Ian either. Both of them understood the situation, yet neither of them knew what was going on. Mickey found small comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one in the dark here.

“Saw it a couple of times with my mom, Monica,” Carl said. “Kind of scary, weird stuff.” There was a brief pause, hardly there, before he continued. “She climbed to the top of our roof and thought she was a bird.”

Mickey didn’t speak for a moment. He wondered if Carl noticed how hard it hit him, if he realised that the older boy was imagining not just that scenario but countless others, with another Gallagher in place of Monica.

His voice was nowhere near as confident as usual when he replied and he was grateful to Carl for not drawing any attention to it. “She jump?” Mickey asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Carl shook his head. “No. The firemen came and got her down.”

Mickey kept his eyes on Carl for a moment, both of them dropping their gaze to study the table at the same time. It was clear to Mickey that it was still a difficult topic for him, from the way he worked to keep his voice suitably even, detached, to the way he lowered his eyes every time he spoke, avoiding eye contact. He wondered if you ever got to a point where talking about things like that didn’t leave you with an ache in your chest, when it was just a slight flicker of recognition, when it was nothing more than a memory and life moved on.

One glance at Carl’s face said it all. Some wounds never heal.

He got the call from the cops not much later. His brain worked on autopilot, barely registering any of the words they said to him. He’d heard all he needed to know. They’d found Ian, and Ian was safe. Or at the very least he wasn’t dead. That seemed to count for a lot these days.

The wait for Lip to arrive after Mickey had called him and Fiona - though Fiona's phone still cut to voicemail - was excruciating. He knew it would be a while – it wasn’t like Lip was just a few blocks over anymore. He was in college, in his fucking ivory tower, and Mickey knew he should be patient but he just couldn’t be. Not when he knew Ian was locked in a goddamn holding cell in a city he’d never even heard of. His eyes dropped to the fists he didn’t realise he had clenched. It pissed him off that Lip could just take off and leave when his family needed him. Part of him despised him for it, but another part – the part that had spent far too long listening to Ian’s stories about his older brother and would never admit to it – felt a sense of grudging admiration, buried beneath layers of irritation and frustration. He didn’t leave because he wanted to escape from his family, Mickey reminded himself. He left because he was the only one in the family who had a hope in hell of getting out of there so far, and on the south side that was something to be revered. You either got out of there while you could or you spent your life constantly fumbling for the last change in your pocket wondering why there were never any happy endings for kids from neighbourhoods like this. After all, it was Mickey’s own sister who recognised that before any of them.

Carl filled the silence with occasional comments, but neither of them were really interested in speaking.

Carl thought about his brother, the one who’d gone through years of ROTC training, who could disembowel an enemy with nothing more than a gym sock and a bag of dimes, the one who’d always watched out for his younger siblings and always had something to say if someone wasn’t treating them right. Mickey, on the other hand, thought about his boyfriend, the one who’d spent years fascinated and totally smitten with his sorry ass, the one who put up with his shit for years without telling him to get lost and who always cared about others far more than he did himself.

Mickey’s hands itched for something to do as he waited so he sent Mandy another message.

_15:41: they found him_

She replied within minutes, even though Mickey knew she was working again right now. Her shifts were unpredictable like that, but he learned the pattern.

 **_15:47:_ ** _where is he???_

_15:48: terra hoat. where the fuck is that? _

There was another pause where all communication from Mandy dropped off. Mickey imagined her readjusting her apron as she stashed her phone in her pocket to serve another customer some overpriced diner waffles whilst simultaneously wishing she could be anywhere but there. At least it was approaching four: her shift would be over soon.

She returned soon enough and Mickey had to smile at the correction in her text. Mandy always was the cleverer of the two.

 **_15:59:_ ** _terre haute mick. it’s in indiana, other side of state from here tho_

If Mickey had believed in fate he would’ve blamed it for the fact that the two most important people in his life had left and wound up in the same place. More than likely, though, it was just Ian’s shitty sense of direction. He pondered whether they’d eventually find their way back together, back home.

Night had fallen by the time Lip showed up and both Gallaghers and Milkovich piled into the car that belonged to none of them. Mickey couldn’t help but focus on the empty seat between himself and Carl; the seat that was very clearly reserved for Ian, even if no one said it.

He continued to respond to Mandy's messages for the duration of the drive. The journey was excruciating and each second pained him even more. The road signs would display distances to places Mickey had never heard of, but each mile they travelled only served to remind him that, despite how every minute brought them closer, Ian was alone in another state with only steel bars for company.

Three hours and 181 miles later the car came to a standstill outside of a police station and Mickey was the first to get out, before Lip had even parked, before the car had even stopped.

Being so close to Ian now brought his patience levels to a new low and it was all he could do to will himself to stay polite. He tried his best and hoped he succeeded but only once he saw Ian again could he finally set his mind at rest. When he wrapped his arms around the taller boy he knew the true meaning of relief. It didn’t matter that Ian’s hands remained firmly by his sides. It felt as though Mickey had spent the last few days suffocating and only now could he breathe again.

With slight aggravation at Ian’s older brother he grudgingly let Ian’s siblings take him to the car while Mickey remained inside. He didn’t want to lose sight of Ian now, not even for five minutes, not now that he’d only just got him back, but once glance at the other boy’s face told him all he needed to know. He’d been through a lot lately; he needed rest.

Mickey stayed behind and waited for the officer he’d encountered to return his son to him too. If he’d felt relief when he saw Ian again, he now felt at peace. The kid hadn’t asked to be dragged into any of this and Mickey surprised himself by letting himself nuzzle against the baby’s head, conveying as much affection in the action as he felt capable of. Worry had short circuited all his barriers.

“You’re a lucky man,” the officer had told him and, hell, did Mickey know that now.

Seated comfortably in the car again with Ian sleeping lighting on his shoulder and Yev settled in Debbie’s arms, Mickey reached into his pocket to update Mandy again. She’d been unable to get off work to see her best friend and by the time her shift finished it would be too late to drive there in time and Mickey knew her worry and disappointment would be starting to bite by now.

_19:23: we got him  
19:24: it’s gonna be ok mandy_

He wasn’t sure whether he was reassuring his sister or himself anymore, but the message he received back helped set his mind at rest a little.

 **_19:26:_ ** _i know it will_

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't mean for this to happen omg i'm so sorry for emo mickey it just became a big ball of metaphors and emotions i don't even know


End file.
